Lucky
by What's Worth It
Summary: After George's best friend enlists in the Nurse Corps, the two figured they would never see each other again. However, throughout the course of the war they continue to run into each other at different times. Is it fate, or are they just lucky? Luz/OC UPDATED!
1. Prologue

**AU/ I got bored of my other story so I deleted it and I'll probably to do rewrite soon. But I do have this brand new one! **

**This is based on the George Luz in the HBO miniseries, so no disrespect. I also own nothing except for my OC's and storyline and that type of stuff. Please review! Rated T for swearing and minor sexuality in further chapters.**

* * *

><p>"Hey Jos, remember this?" the distinguished voice of George Luz echoed off the giant and aged trees. The sixty-five year old woman's eyes flickered to where her husbands index finger pointed. A collapsed tree lay in the distance, it was broken in several different pieces, as if a momentous bolt of lighting sent by Zeus had struck it. The inside of the tree, which once had been a blinding color of beige was now a dirty grey, scarred and withered by age.<p>

"That must have been when the Krauts got us hard with artillery," He continued, and his powerful voice started weaken and blend in with ominous quiet of the woods. However, the woman did not listen to his words, purposefully. She didn't want to think about what happened, nor remember it. She swallowed the large lump in her throat that had magically appeared and could begin to feel tears sting the creases of her eyes. He felt George's eyes on her, and turned away from him.

"C'mon Jos, don't cry," He said, and his normally loud and crude voice had shifted into a sweet and concerned tone, which Josephine Luz always loved to hear. He quickly grabbed her hand and started to pull her closer to him.

She looked up into his chocolate brown eyes, and even at sixty-five they had the same spark in them as they did when he was five years old. However, now they had a touch of pain to them, and were starting to accumulate tears.

"Just this is where… Where…"

She couldn't finish her sentence. Her memory drifted back to the December of 1944, here in the Ardennes forrest. Here is what changed her. Here was the feelings of pain, fear and suffering that could not be erased from her mind. Out of the hundreds of cries for help she heard, it made her heart break to think that she only could have reached a few of the soldiers with pale, dirty faces, complete with blood running down their jump wings. These were images she could not erase from her mind.

She tried to clear the rock in her throat.

"George, can we go now?"

Her voice came out like a broken music-box. She now realized that George had tears coming out too.

"Yeah, let's go."

He grabbed her hand and they began to walk over the carpet of snapping twigs and pine needles that lay at their feet.

"Hey Jos," said George, his head raised, taking one last look at his surroundings.

"Yeah?"

"At least there's one good thing that came out of this shit-hole."

"What's that?"

He grinned wickedly, the same grin he had kept since childhood. "We fell in love."

She laughed. "You asshole, I've been in love with you since the ninth grade."

He put a smile back on her face with his hearty laugh. "Is that so, Tiger?"

The childhood nickname made her ears go red, and brought a fuzzy feeling to her insides. It was true, her forever crush on George Luz dated way back from Bastogne. Even past their hilarious antics in Georgia, past their struggle to fit in as adults when coming of age in Rhode Island.

As they reached the mouth of the forest, both now elderly people turned around and took one last look at the place they both remembered as hell on earth. A jumble of memories and mixed emotions entered the both of them, ones they had always tried to forget. Taking the final glimpse of the forest Josie closed her eyes and tried to remember how they both ended up there.


	2. Hermit Crabs

Josie threw her arms up in the air and stretched, letting the tension disappear from her back as she let a wide yawn escape from her mouth. The cold sand felt miraculous on her bare feet, and she dug her toes deeper in. She closed her eyes and could feel the crisp sea breeze caress her face, hear the rhythmic rolling of waves that crashed down ahead of her, and smell the salt that lingered in the air.

She loved living near the beach. The beach meant relaxation, even if for a few seconds after a long day. This was heaven for her. Even though she adored Rhode Island, she had always dreamed of the day where she would leave it to see the world. And that day would be soon, if she went along with her plans.

Josie's thought's were suddenly interrupted by a sharp pain in the back of her head, caused by a small object that had been carelessly flung in her direction. She grabbed the back of her head in pain, then craned her neck to the left to see who brought this pain upon her.

"Yoo-hoo shit head," George Luz called, strolling carelessly down the boardwalk stairs, his infamous coonhound named Rusty following tightly on his heels.

"Was that you?" cried Josie, anger settled into her voice. He giggled in response.

"Fuck off!" she yelled. She picked up the rock that sat behind her and hurled at his head, which she missed by about two feet.

"Better brush up on your aim there, hot-head," he said, smirking.

"What the fuck George? Don't throw shit at me!" she hounded.

He laughed. "That wasn't a piece of shit, it was a rock last time I checked. But I can throw some shit at you if you want, I can get good ol' Rusty to cook up some right now."

He then approached the dog and started to pet it.

"C'mon Rusty Rusty, c'mon good old boy, yes, take a shit for Georgie, yes?" he cooed to the dog in a baby voice.

"Ha, your hilarious," said Josie sarcastically, crossing her arms. She surely didn't appreciate her few peaceful minutes of the day being interrupted by her best friend who was equivalent to an asswipe.

"You have to appreciate the fact that I am still friends with you despite your undisguisable ugliness," George said, taking a seat beside her.

"Well aren't you a gentleman today, asshole."

"It always shocks me that such a beautiful young lady would use such vile language."

George noticed the frown on his best friends face and gently jabbed her in the ribcage.

"Did'ja hear the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor to shit?" he said excitedly.

"Obviously, I don't live under a fucking rock George," Josie said. She loved this game. She always acted annoyed with George, even though she highly appreciated his humor.

This time George chose to speak in the voice of a British Scholar. "Well, it is quite interesting you say that because you have the similar living pattern of a Hermit crab, darling."

Josie decided she could not hold back her laughter any longer. She let out a hearty laugh and leaned back further in the sand. She stared out on to the horizon. It was beautiful. The setting sun was a divine gold mass, and had turned the sky a cornucopia of colors. Red, pink, purple, orange, green, blue were streaked across the sky like a watercolor painting.

"Are you gonna enlist?" she asked George, removing her eyes from the sky and setting them on George. His thick brown hair was in need of a haircut, he suffered from many different cowlicks. His chocolate brown eyes seemed especially big and full of life at that moment. They had always been Josie's favorite part of George's looks. She loved how they always sparkled with mischief and she always seemed to get lost in them. His eyes and his jawline of course.

Over the past few years Josie had greatly noticed the change in George's masculinity. He had grown out of the skinny and awkward adolescent and into a well-built and handsome young man. Really handsome, if Josie couldn't help but think.

Although she always tried to hide it, Josie had harbored a rather large crush on George since high school. She always thought he knew it, he would frequently tease her about it. In fact, many times in high school George would teasingly ask her out, and every time she turned him down. She didn't know why she did it, when sometimes she wanted him so badly. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was the fact that she didn't want to fuck things over with the person who understood her best. However, she didn't dwell on this events because she figured one day they would get married anyway. Everyone guessed it, her parents, his parents, their friends, teachers. Nothing could ever separate the two, they were just like peas in a pod.

"Yeah, I reckon I should make some more dough for the family first. Pop's gettin' old, and we need it."

"Bobby and Stevie are heading down to Providence to enlist tomorrow," Josie said of her older brothers. As soon as the news broke, both siblings were quick to decide to fight for their country and pride.

"What are they going out for?" asked George. He made it sound like a sports tryout.

"Marines," Josie answered. "Is that what your going for?"

George shook his head of thick hair. "Nah, I'm thinking something way more badass…"

Josie scoffed, "Roosevelt's secret agent?"

"Easy tiger… I'm thinking the paratroops."

Josie had heard of paratrooping only briefly before. It was when someone idiotic enough jumped out of a plane into enemy territory, if she was correct. Well, she thought. George is an idiot.

She grinned. George called Rusty over, who had been sniffing the sand for miles around, and the dog bounded over. George ruffled his fur and scratched his head.

"Hey Snaggletooth," Josie started, staring at the dog absent mindedly. Snaggletooth was the nickname she came up with for George in elementary school. Before puberty and dental work, George had a set of highly crooked teeth. They looked cute after he got them fixed in all, but the nickname stuck with him.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm gonna enlist too."

George laughed. He then cupped his hands to form a megaphone and yelled to the empty beach, "Tough guy right here! Everyone take a look at the tough guy!"

She smacked him on the arm.

"Asshole, I meant enlist in Nurses' Corps."

"Really doll," he said in a radio-persona voice. He then readjusted himself on the sand, lied down, and placed his head on her lap. "What makes you wanna do that?"

Josie laughed. She looked down at her goofball of a friend below her. God, she could hate him sometimes, but loved him all the time.

"I don't know," she started, and began to run her fingers through his brown thicket of hair. "Maybe just to get out of West Warwick for a while, you know? Maybe see the world a little bit, maybe make a little more dough for myself."

"All for free!" George interjected in his radio voice.

She slapped him gently on the cheek.

"Hey, watch it tiger."

The sun had now fully set into Long beach, and the sky had turned dark.

"Hey kid, get off my lap, I need to get home for dinner," Josie said, grinning.

"Can I come?" asked George, all giddy. "C'mon your parents love me."

It was true. After being friends with George for fifteen years her parents were unfazed when he waltzed in her house and the same went for when he dropped in for dinner. They loved him like a son, even if he robbed them, Josie bet a joke from George would be earn their forgiveness.

George got off her lap and looked at her with the face of a sad puppy. "Help me," he said, getting onto his knees in begging position. "My parents don't feed me," he said in a somewhat convincing feeble voice.

Josie stood up and pushed him over, "C'mon then, ya big cheese."

"Yipee!" cried George jumping to his feet. He called Rusty over, and the two nineteen year old somethings from Rhode Island disappeared into the darkness of the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! :)<strong>


	3. Are We There Yet?

**Yeah, I know this chapter is a little sappy, but in the next like, five, there is no lovey-dovey schtuff. I know the past few chapters we heard from Josie, but in the next few it's all about George! Yay! Ps. I tried to be funny in this one but it turned out a little raunchy, so reader discretion is advised. Next chapters will be funnier, I promise, so read on when I update!**

* * *

><p>"What are the odds, huh Tiger?" said George Luz gleefully, bouncing in the front seat of the car like a five year old. "We enlist on the same day and look what happens: we get sent to the same military training camp. Boy, we are two lucky fucks!"<p>

"George! Watch your language son!" scolded a powerful voice with a faint Portuguese accent. It was George's dad from the driver's seat. It seemed like he was trying to sound angry, although inside he was laughing at his twenty-year-old son acting so childish.

"Technically its not the same training camp George," Josie stated, matter o' factly. "It's just on the same grounds."

"Oh, care to enlighten me more on the matter, know-it-all," George said in a sophisticated English accent.

"If you were in the back seat right now, I'd punch you so hard your head would explode," snarled Josie. She could hear Mr. Luz chuckle from the front.

"Lucky for me," George said, casting a wink that Josie could see through the rearview mirror.

The car screeched to a halt, Mr. Luz's satisfactory driving skills contributed to this.

"And so we have reached our destination, Ladies and Gents!" cried George in an animated voice.

Josie peered out the window; in the dark she could barely see the train station. George hopped out of the car joyfully and Josie followed his lead. The air was thick and musty, and smelt heavily of exhaust fumes. George and Mr. Luz got her bags out of the trunk for her and she realized it was time for George to say goodbye to his father. She had already done her goodbyes with her family, it hasn't as heartfelt and tearful as she expected it to be, she guessed her Mom was all cried out after Bobby and Stevie left.

"Well son," Mr. Luz started, glowing with pride for his son. "You get out there and crack some skulls," he said, ruffling George's hair proudly.

Josie laughed and so did George. "Will do Pop."

Mr. Luz turned to face me. "And you mend some skulls little lady."

Josie chuckled, "I will Mr. Luz."

He gestured for a hug. "Bring it in kids."

Josie and George were then wrapped up in what Josie liked to call a bear hug. Josie backed out of it earlier then George, thinking it was an appropriate time for the father and son to have a proper goodbye. She picked up her suitcase uncomfortably; she surely didn't want to make family goodbyes awkward with her standing there watching.

"Thanks for the ride Mr. Luz," she said, smiling fondly at him.

"My pleasure little lady," he said, returning the smile. "Hopefully we'll see you sooner then we think!"

"Thank you, goodbye!" Josie said before starting to walk away. She could hear the Luz boy's goodbyes faintly behind her, and felt her heart sink a little.

"Take care of yourself son."

"Don't worry about me Pop, you know I'm a lucky bastard," George said reassuringly.

She could hear Mr. Luz sigh. "Just get back home to Mama safe."

George laughed. "Sounds like a hell of an idea, Pop."

By this time Josie tried to tear her attention away from them. She had always hated goodbyes, just something about them made her insides squirm, even if she was going to see whoever she was saying goodbye to in a matter of days.

Josie could start to feel pain on the heels and toes of her feet. Wearing heels, even if they were short, and carrying a suitcase wasn't the best idea. What normally would have been a dainty _click-click _sound on the pavement from her shoes ended up being a much heavier _thud-thud_, because of the weight of her suitcase. Who knew how long she'd be away from home and all she brought was a suitcase. She didn't have much to pack anyway, after all her family was still trying to recover from the depression.

"Hey tiger, slow down!" She heard George huff from behind her. She stopped in her tracks and spun around, while he sprinted towards her.

"What's the rush sweet-cheeks?" He asked, winking at her. He noticed her struggling with her medium sized suitcase and offered to carry it for her.

"Quite the gentleman you are, Luz," Josie chided, grinning with her chin held high.

George smirked in return. "Hey, it's the least I can do, since you're gonna blow me when we get on that train."

Josie, who should have been appalled by his comment merely laughed. She was used to this kind of sexual harassment on a day-to-day basis.

"You gotta suck me first then," she fired back.

He scoffed, "Surely, if you had one."

After what seemed like miles for Josie, the pair had finally arrived at the train. George got their baggage checked, while Josie got their tickets punched. Side by side, the dynamic duo loaded onto the train.

"I get the window seat!" Screamed George as soon as they got on the train. Several Shhh!'s and dirty looks followed. Josie slapped him on his bicep.

"Shut the fuck up, people are trying to sleep asshole," Josie hissed.

"Where's my blowjob woman?" He whispered back, snickering.

"You're gross," said Josie, letting him sit down first when they finally found their seats. After Josie sat down, she slouched further down in the seat, trying to get comfortable, while George did the same.

George sighed, "Well, I think this 24 hour train ride calls for some serious sleeping. What do you say Tiger?"

"I say it's a damn good idea Snaggletooth," said Josie, while she yet a yawn escape from her mouth. George did the same movement he always did when he tried to get confortable: he crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits. He then leaned harder on Josie and dropped his head so it rested on her shoulder.

"Night Jos," George said yawning, and jittery feeling occurred in Josie's stomach.

George rarely called Josie _Jos_, (his nicknames usually consisted of Shit-head, asshole and Tiger) but when he did it made the imaginary butterflies in her stomach go nuts. He always said it in an affectionate way, and with his voice as smooth as butter it surely made her insides melt. She always tried to shake the feeling from her, and she never knew why. Well that was a lie, she did know deep down there that she had feelings for George but was afraid of what might happen if she acted on them.

It wasn't that she was afraid of relationships, sex or anything of the sort (trust her she had done plenty of that before) it was just that the fact it was George scared the shit out of her. Was it normal for someone to start having romantic feelings for someone they had loved like a brother since the age of five? She didn't know, and it scared her to know.

She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as she thought back to high school. In their first year, George went through this crazy thing called puberty and was transformed into a horny little fuck. He then proceeded to beg and plead Josie to have sex with him with the argument that: _It's gonna happen someday and I might as well be the one. _She had refused him multiple times until he gave up. Then, when the two turned eighteen she came back to George and begged him to take her virginity because she was almost the only girl who wasn't super Catholic and hadn't lost it yet. Yet, George refused her. _Should have done the dirty deed with me back in Freshman year. Bet you regret it now. _She did regret it. However, she did end up losing it to some guy who was going to move off to college in a few months and they never spoke again.

Mental reminiscing was starting to take a toll on Josie, she began to feel waves of drowsiness crash down on her. Beside her George snored once or twice realigned himself with the seat and Josie's shoulder. Fleeting memories of her and George crossed Josie's mind before she faded out of consciousness.

* * *

><p>The dull morning sky awoke Josie from her long awaited slumber. She groaned and ripped the passenger curtains back in place. George made a few muffled noises when she moved but failed to wake up. She tried to fall back asleep, and after maybe an hour of laying there uncomfortably she decided to go to the front of the train to get some coffee. It boggled her as to how George could sleep so soundly. George had a knack for falling asleep easily in uncomfortable places and staying asleep.<p>

Josie slowly removed herself from being George's pillow without trying to wake him by pushing his torso up and sliding out from underneath him. He thumped back down on the seat without stirring; operation successful! She then crept towards the front of the car, hoping not to wake anyone else on the sleeping locomotive.

When she arrived back, she was surprised to find George groggy-eyed, yet awake.

"Good morning Sleeping beauty," she hushed and handed him one of the cups of coffee in her hand.

"You're a doll, you know that huh, Tiger?" George said grinning, his voice still low with sleep.

"I'm aware," Josie said, sliding into the seat beside him. "How long until we reach Toccoa?"

George fumbled around for a few seconds then finally found his watch.

"Um, I think we're looking at ten hours sweetheart."

Josie nodded. "I guess it's not that bad," she said grinning. "We can play a few games to pass the time."

George winked. "Or how about a roll in the hay?"

Josie looked around conspicuously. "I don't think all these people would appreciate seeing your nasty naked ass George. Not to mention the donkey noises you make when you're fucking."

George squinted at her, "How do you know what kind of noises I make?" He hissed defensively.

"That one time my parents were out and I let you use my bedroom for Susie Rogers. I had to keep watch, remember?"

George grinned. "I payed you though, didn't I?"

"Yeah horse shit pay. It was like five cents. I should have gotten more because of the trauma I experienced after"

George laughed. "The only trauma you experienced was jealousy that it wasn't you shit-head."

* * *

><p>George and Josie then started a game of <em>Would you rather? <em>Which would last them the rest of our trip that was filled with _Are we there yet?_ And _I'm hungry!_ That came from George.

Soon enough the pair found themselves getting giddy with excitement as they neared close to their destination. Josie had a mixture of both excitement and anxiety about training. What would it be like? She thought to herself. Would the other girls be nice? She then could have slapped herself for thinking so childishly.

"Almost there!" cried George, jabbing Josie in the ribs and bouncing again like an idiot again.

"George," started Josie. "Please be safe there."

"I'm not even close to combat yet and you're worried about me. Relax."

"I'm just saying don't act like an idiot!"

George laughed. "You do realize you're telling this to a guy who volunteered to jump out of a plane surrounded? I think I can act like an idiot because everyone else there is surely an idiot too."

It was Josie's turn to laugh. "Just promise me to behave yourself. Don't get in fights, and most importantly don't put tacks on your Captain's chair."

"Oh c'mon this is like the fucking first grade all over again. What if my CO is a big jackass though?"

Josie leaned in with a smirk, "Then you find some way to pay back the old fucker."

If only George knew what was coming to him…


	4. Three Midgets and Frank Perconte

**I'm trying to update as soon as I can! Sorry, there's a lot of swearing in this chapter too, but it's all for humour, trust me!**

* * *

><p>Holy mother of Mary it was hot. George lay on his back, his head pressed up against the wall next to his bunk. He could feel itchy molecules of sweat forming on the back of his neck, and his PT shirt seemed to be glued to his back. In his left hand he had a softball, and was tossing it up and down, catching it in the other hand.<p>

"Jesus, when you think everyone else is going to get here?" a man with a thick Arkansas accent bellowed.

George and some of Easy Company had only been at Toccoa training camp for two days. The whole company hadn't arrived yet so the men in Toccoa were limited to training exercises. All they had been doing was PT which was somewhat easy for George, who was prepped for the physical exertion by the sports he played back in Rhode Island. The company was lead by Lt. Richard Winters, who, by George's regulations was a damn good guy. Not as much of a sense of humor as George would have liked, but he was a natural and confident leader, which George respected.

George looked up at Bull Randleman. He was a pretty friendly guy, but big enough that you didn't wanna mess with him. He was tall and stocky, with blond hair and a face that still lingered with adolescence.

"What's the rush big guy?" George asked with a wink. Bull pulled an irritated face at him, and George tossed the ball up at his face, which quickly shifted from annoyance to surprise. To Bull's luck (or George's) he caught the ball in the snap of a finger.

"Nice reflexes," said George, grinning in a friendly manner. Bull just smirked and tossed the ball back, much to George's relief.

"It's all the guys from the West coast that still need to get here. It takes a long time to get here from way over," piped up Frank Perconte. There were _little_ words to describe Frank. Maybe all it would take is a _short_ sentence. Ha, sometimes George cracked himself up. To put it in _minuscule_ view, Frank was a short, little Italian from Chicago.

"Long time my ass," George blurted out. "It took forever to get to here from Rhode Island."

It was true. It was not a life experience that was for sure. The train smelt like old people and soup, and by the time they were ready to get off of it George's ass felt like he had been sitting on pine needles and he had to take a wiz like crazy. There was a shitter on the train, but when George previously tried to use it, it smelt like an atomic explosion of horse shit. Funny thing was, the girl who used it before him was a bitchy young girl wearing a rather expensive dress and looked as if she had a diamond shoved up her ass or something. You know, like she thought she was better then everyone else. George remembered staring her down on the train. _Yeah, this train smells like ass and you're to blame! Don't pretend like you don't know, I've caught you in the act, Diarrhea McGee!_

"I heard we start training with our Captain tomorrow," said Perconte, who was folding his dress uniform and putting it in his foot locker. "I was talkin' to one of the cooks in the mess hall and he told me he's a complete asshole."

"You scared peaches?" grumbled a voice from one of the top bunks. It was drenched in a South Philly accent, and George knew it belonged to Wild Bill.

Even though he was the youngest in the pack so far, at eighteen, he sure didn't fail to scare the living shit out of everyone. He was like a kid who had watched too many cowboy movies and was all jacked up on Coco-Cola, there was senseless rage bubbled up inside him like a fucking volcano. He was pretty little too, like most of the Italians in Easy (with the exception of Joe Toye), yet George was afraid that if he said one thing out of line, baby Gonorrhea would start biting him on the ankles like a rabid Chihuahua.

"No," said Frank in a whiny defense, "I'm just sayin' that's what the guy said."

"Yeah," said Bill, hopping off his bunk and strolling over to Frank. George could see Frank's eyes flutter with worry. Frank would get his ass kicked by Bill, there was not even the slightest doubt. However, Frank had the whole cabin to back him up, so it was a fight better not fought.

"I'd like to try to see him be an asshole to Wild Bill of Philly and see what happens," Bill said with gritted teeth, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He edged nearer to Frank. George sensed the tension and stopped tossing the ball that Bull had thrown back at him.

A laugh was heard from an upper bunk. It came from Private David Webster, who seemed to be at complete peace, he was grinning and had a thick book resting in his hands.

Bill jerked his head up to the source of laughter.

"What'cha laughin' at pretty boy?" he snarled, whipping his cigarette out of his mouth.

Woah shit. Was this guy looking for a punch in the nose? He seemed not to think so, smiling broadly at Bill.

"Certainly not you, Bill," Webster said, his voice steady and perfectly calm.

"Then wipe that dumb fucking smile off your face, Einstein," growled Bill. George then wondered if Webster could pack a good punch. He probably could, he was a bit on the tall side, with a good build. It didn't matter if he could or not, spending the past two days with a Harvard kid George knew that he could beat anyone to a pulp with the power of literacy. George didn't even know what the fuck most of the stuff he said was, he was like a human dictionary.

"I think you would be pleased to know that I'm not laughing at you, Bill. I'm just amused that you have primed insults for our Captain and you have not even met him yet."

Bill shot Webster the death stare, defeated by the practice of politically correct language. "Shut up college boy," George heard him grumble under his breath. George was sure David heard this, yet he simply smiled and transferred his eyes back to his book.

Bill then turned towards Perconte. "Oh yeah, can I have a light?"

"Yeah, of course," Frank said, and nervously dug into his foot locker; he pulled out a pretty silver lighter and tossed it to the hot-headed kid in front of him. In one swift movement Bill lit up, then tossed the lighter back to Perconte.

"Nice lighter," he said, before returning to his bunk.

Perconte looked confused. "Thanks," he mumbled and once again fiddled with the shit in his foot locker.

* * *

><p>Within a matter of hours the rest of Easy had arrived, some filling up the empty beds in George's cabin. It didn't matter where they slept for the night, because they would be divided into their platoons the next morning anyway and put in separate bunks. Most of the guys George met were fairly friendly and likeable; others were as tough as nails with an attitude to match. There was a friendly ginger named Don Malarkey and his friend Skip Muck, who was really kind hearted with a good sense of humor. He also met Joseph Liebgott, a big nosed, scrawny kid from California who might just spit in your face if you pissed him off. There was also an awkward guy named Floyd Talbert who came from Indiana. The quietest of all the men he had met that night was a mild mannered boy from Lousiana, named Eugene Roe. He was to be the medic of Easy Company. He was a Cajun, which was actually an ethnicity of people (George had gone his whole life thinking it was a flavor of chicken)! George somewhat felt sorry for the kid, he barely said a word and looked like a puppy who had just been kicked in the balls. Maybe he just needs a friend, George thought as everyone was getting settled in their bunks.<p>

"Hey Eugene!" he said waving. Eugene cast looks around the room, as if to see if George was talking to him. Obviously he was talking to him, no one else is fucking named Eugene here. Shit, maybe George was creeping him out.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

The medic looked at him nervously. "Uh, suah."

George grinned.

"So there's these three midgets. One think's he's got the smallest hands in America, one thinks he's got the smallest feet, and the other thinks he has the smallest dick in America."

He paused to make sure the medic was following, in which Roe nodded.

"So they go to their state government office to see the census and see if they are right. The first one goes in the office, then comes out a few minutes later and says 'I have the smallest hands in all of America!' They congratulate him, then the second one goes in, stays there for a few minutes, then comes out and says, 'Hey guys I have the smallest feet in all of America!' They congratulate him, then finally the third one goes in, then comes out a few minutes later, looking pretty pissed off, and says, 'Who the fuck is this Frank Perconte guy?'"

The cabin then erupted with laughter and George grinned like the devil.

"Get outta here Luz," he heard Skip call from above.

Perco's tan cheecks began to turn a shade of red. "Maybe you've got a small dick, blockhead," he mumbled, and lobbed his pillow at George, which landed gently on his bed. Still laughing, George threw it back at him.

"ATTENTION!"

George leapt to his feet and stood in position, as well did everyone else in the cabin.

"At ease," said the calm yet firm voice of Lt. Winters. George relaxed a little. Winters strode up to the front of the cabin, so every paratroop-in-training could have a good view of him, with Lt. Nixon at his side.

"Just reminding you that your day starts at zero-five hundred tomorrow and you are not to report to the mess hall, you are to report to the entrance of the West Lecture Hall, where you will be sorted into your platoons. Tomorrow you will resume training under Captain Sobel."

"Yes sir!" echoed the cabin. He smiled and nodded.

"Carry on," he said, before leaving the cabin.

There were a few mutters and some quiet chatter after he left. The men in the cabin weren't boys anymore, so they didn't feel the need to keep the lights on longer then needed and play cards or some shit like that. They simply said their goodnights and snuggled into their uncomfortable mattresses.

George muttered a 'night' to Perco and Bull, who's bunks were beside him, and pressed his head close into his pillow. He wondered what Sobel would be like, and if he was a dick like Frank said. He could handle him even if he was. George volunteered for the paratroops and nothing was going to stop him from making that big jump into Europe someday, to make his Pop and Josie proud.

With an orchestra of crickets and the muggy Georgia air lulling George to sleep, he wondered what Josie was doing on the other side of the camp. What a fucking stupid thing to wonder, she was obviously sleeping. Before a final wave of sleep hit him, he hoped he would see Jos faster then he expected.


	5. Satanic Sobel and George's Lucky Day

**Sorry for the wait, I've finally updated! Sorry for the inconvenience but this is a long a** chapter. Warning: I rip on Sobel pretty hard in the chapter, so remember that this is all based on the mini-series and NOT THE REAL PEOPLE. That would just be downright mean. Haha, anyway, enjoy and please review!**

* * *

><p>All George could think about was being in hell when he heard the '<em>Reveille' <em>blast his fucking ears off at six in the morning. _When you die and you've been a bad boy God doesn't send you to hell, he sends you to Camp Toccoa to run Currahee every fucking day, _George thought as he ripped his sheets off, feeling the dewey morning on his legs that were only clothed with boxers. As if he volunteered for this shit. He groaned, as he used all the force he had to pull himself out of his bunk; every muscle in his body ached. Normally around the guys he tried to keep a positive attitude, but within his own thoughts he could let go and complain all he fucking wanted.

Easy Company had been under the reign of Captain Dickweed Sobel for the past two months. Had it been two months? George couldn't tell, running Currahee with no water canteen every day might have made him a little crazy. It wasn't true, what that guy in the mess hall said two months ago about Sobel. He had called him an asshole. No, Sobel wasn't an asshole, that was an understatement. He wasn't an asshole, he was like the fucking devil reincarnated. For all George knew, he was the spawn of Satan.

He remembered his first impression of Sobel. He had hated him from the start, just like every other guy in Easy did.

_"You people are at the position of attention!" Sobel yelled, as he marched along the rows of troops. He walks like a fucking chicken with a giant erection and a pickle up his asshole, thought George watching him. He strutted to the other end of the line and stopped in front of Perco._

_"Private Perconte," he spat. He probably had semen breath. "Have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper should?"_

_"No Sir," answered Frank, staring blankly at him._

_"Then explain the creases at the bottom."_

_Frank hesitated. "No excuse Sir."_

_Wow, George thought. There's fucking creases on his pants, so what? It's not like he can't kill a bunch of Krauts with creases in his pants! He could kill them naked if he wanted to, Sobel would probably like that._

_"Volunteering for the parachute infantry is one thing Perconte, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here," Sobel said, sneering. "Your weekend pass is revoked."_

_He turned away. Oh shit, he was coming for George. Shit, no, go away! Sobel marched right up to George and looked him right in the eyes._

_"Name?" He said menacingly. His breath didn't smell like semen to George's dismay, instead it was like moldy crackers._

_"Luz, George," is what George attempted to say in proper English, instead it came out all jumbled and sounded like: 'Lug, judge.'_

_Sobel then prompted to take George's weapon for inspection. _

_ "Dirt in the rear sight-aperture, pass revoked," he said, before shoving the gun back at George._

_This man was officially the most giant asshole in the world. He couldn't fucking parade around taking people's weekend passes because they had dirt on their guns. George looked at him with vengeance. He was completely tempted to turn his gun around and shoot Sobel in the nuts. It's not like he would ever need them or has needed them before. He was probably still a fucking virgin._

_Sobel then continued to go around taking other people's passes, like Lipton because he didn't sew his chevrons on properly, or Malarkey, just because well… George thought it was because he didn't like him. The final straw was Liebgott's rusty bayonet. Sobel went to the front of the line._

_"I would not take this rusty piece of shit to war," he shouted, holding up Lieb's bayonet. "And I wont take you in your condition!" He tossed the bayonet at the ground._

_"Now thanks to these men and their infractions, every man in the company with a weekend pass has lost it!"_

_George heard Floyd sigh nervously behind him._

_Sobel sent them the dirtiest look George could ever imagine someone could make._

_"Change into your PT gear, we're running Currahee."_

That was the first of hundreds of times that George ran Currahee. Three miles up and three miles down, Currahee was famous for being an agonizing way to train troops. Every time a soldier-to-be ran it their legs ached like a bitch, stomach churned, lungs dried out, and most of all thought they might die of heat stroke.

George swore as he pulled himself out of bed and thought of running up Currahee today. He quickly grabbed his gear from his foot locker and pulled it on with haste. He could see Malarkey still lying in bed out of the corner of his eye. Skip was gently prodding his armpit.

"Get up Don," he whispered nervously, "C'mon, before Winters sees."

"Go away," Don grumbled, hugging his pillow tighter.

"I'm being serious!" Skip cried, whom George thought didn't have a mean bone in his body to intimidate anyone with.

"Take a wiz on him, that outta wake him up," said George, tugging on his dungarees.

Skip laughed, and punched Malark softly in the arm.

"Fine…" Donald said, and rolled out of his bunk so his feet touched the floor.

"Atta boy," said George grinning. He was in gear, so he started towards to exit of the cabin to get in the assembly line and wait for Sobel.

Five minutes later the rest of George's Airborne platoon had lined up with him, just as Sobel strutted over to them. God, he was a dick. George couldn't even stand to look at his face. He needed to picture something to make him feel better, like a dog humping Sobel's face while George was being humped by Rita Hayworth. What a beautiful sight.

"Easy Company," spat Sobel. Not even a good morning, huh?

"You have been running Currahee every day for the past two months."

Yeah, no shit Sherlock.

"I have decided that you have earned a change of routine for today…" he continued, giving the stink eye to every soldier. George suddenly hoped it was a day of lecture. Even though lecture was boring as fuck it was better then Currahee.

"Instead of running Currahee this morning," he said, and George felt a giant internal sigh of relief.

"You will be running around the perimeter of the Camp Toccoa and the neighbouring Camp Fairchild. It's nearly fifteen miles of steady terrain, I expect you to do it in 110 minutes, if you slack off you're running it again. You now have two minutes to change into your PT gear, and I will be watching."

The relief inside George instantly vanished, and was replaced with dread. What the fuck? In George's mind, Sobel was officially the lovechild of Hitler and Satan. Why the hell did Easy have to run fifteen fucking miles, while Fox and Dog did simple PT courses? It's not like Easy is gonna have to fucking run everywhere in Europe, there's trucks and shit! And what's with this 'I will be watching' shit? Whatta perv, he probably does like watching young men with nothing but boxers on! George knew Sobel meant it in a different context, but still he liked to think he was a miserable homo for his own entertainment.

Sobel stared them down with his seedy little black eyes.

"What are you waiting for, Lieutenant Winters, you lead these scumbags around the camp."

"Yes sir," said Winters, and George could hear the annoyance in his voice. Sobel had his head shoved too far up his ass to notice, George reckoned.

By three minutes, Easy was changed and well on their way.

"Make sure to pace yourselves, we have a long way to go," George heard Winters say from the front. Boy, Winters really did care about his men. Even though it was hard for him to show, working through Sobel, George and the rest of the boys knew he really did. George expected he would make a fantastic combat leader, he had the uncommon ability to stay calm and collected in the most retarded of situations put on them by Sobel.

George was already starting to sweat. The morning Georgia air was humid as ever, not like the crisp and chilly mornings he was used to in Rhode Island. After a mile, with aching legs and dry lungs, George started to dread the rest of their journey. Damn, he was going to sleep like a dog tonight.

* * *

><p>Oh God, thought George. Make it stop. They were almost halfway done now, just entering the Medical training part of the grounds, Camp Fairchild. George's legs felt like somebody had hammered a wooden stake in them, and he felt as if his lungs had shriveled up into nothing (maybe he should lay off the cigarettes for a while). His throat burned like he had been living in the desert without water for a year and it was like someone had jabbed their bayonet into his side. <em>And there was still halfway to go.<em>

"Good job Easy," he heard Winters try to yell, before sputtering out in coughs. "You're doing great, we can do this boys! Keep it up!"

George tried to speak, but found his voice had been swallowed by the dryness of his throat. He tried again, and then once more and found himself successful.

"Just imagine some naked Sheba's waiting for us at the finish line!"

His voice sounded awful. He had hoped for some laughs, but only heard one or two, everyone was either too focused or too in pain to appreciate his humor.

The buildings of Camp Fairchild were starting to blur together, so George closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them his eyes were immediately attracted to a body of girls wearing white uniforms standing exiting a grey building. He tried to check them out, but ended up flat-tiring Shifty.

"Hey Luz, keep your eyes on the road, not the dames," Malark said between heavy breaths.

"George!"

It was a female voice who called his name. George recognized it immediately.

He then turned his head to the left to see Josie, bounding towards him. She was wearing the same white uniform as the rest of the girls, short sleeved, pleated, complete with a red cross on the arm. Her blond hair that usually was left down was tied up behind her head, with a white nurses visor holding it back.

What the fuck was she doing? Couldn't she see that George was a little busy? He couldn't stop, that would wreck him. The nerve of that one. She kept running until she was beside him.

"Georgie I've missed you!" she cried.

Oh my God. As much as George loved her he wanted her to go the fuck away at that moment.

"Fuck off tiger, I'm trying to run fifteen miles here! I'll talk to you later!" he grumbled between breaths.

Her face screamed hurt at that moment, and he suddenly felt like a dick. She was probably just excited to see him and he told her to fuck off. Nevertheless, Josie quickly shifted her facial expression to the feisty one that usually inhabited her face. She was never one to show her feelings, not even to George.

"Sorry," she said, with slight attitude. She stopped running.

"My cabin is 4c George!" she called from behind him, cupping her hands to form a megaphone. George then felt a grin creeping up on his face.

"You," Malarkey started, struggling between breaths. "You know her?"

"No, we're strangers," huffed George, trying to inject as much sarcasm into his weakened voice as he could.

"She your girlfriend?" Malarkey asked, his shoulders bobbing up and down. George shook his head and Malark's face lit up. "Well then, if you don't mind me sayin' that broad is smokin'!"

"Hey, watch it pal," George hissed, and Malarkey suddenly looked shocked. There was a long pause of their feet thumping on the dirt path and the rhythm of their loud and shallow breathing.

"Is she your sister?"

* * *

><p>"Oh God," started little Perco, stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes, which was the equivalent of cardboard mushed up with water in taste. "I can't tell you how much I miss my Mamma's cookin' right now."<p>

George removed his face from his potatoes for only a moment to speak. "I hear ya, Perco."

Boy, this cooking was the shittiest of shit that he had ever tasted (he meant this in a metaphorical way, he had never eaten shit before, that's just fucked up). However, after he had been running, jumping, climbing, and crawling for nearly sixteen hours a day, everyday, the shitty food started to actually taste good. Maybe it was that his incredibly overworked body was in need of as much fuel as possible in order to keep him going and do a sufficient job at it, or that he simply forgot what good cooking tasted like. Nevertheless, Satan Sobel had robbed them of every weekend pass in their nearly five month stay so far. Every time a Friday came up, Sobel would hunt like a hungry badger to find even the smallest of a technicality in Easy. Even if he couldn't find one, he would find some dumb excuse, even if he made it up himself.

For what reason? George thought. Sobel was trying to prepare Easy for war, yet he didn't know what the war was like. He hadn't gone overseas to see what it was like in Europe. Though Sobel's vision of the European front may have been a blood-soaked hellhole, George liked the idea of dropping into the Swiss Alps, with ten beautiful, naked blondes feeding him chocolate and beer.

A humming chatter filled the mess hall as the members of E, I and D Company started to shuffle out of the building. George wondered what hell awaited them when they rejoined Sobel. Easy then stood at attention outside the mess hall, and surprisingly, George couldn't see asscracker Sobel marching towards him. Maybe the ground would start splitting in front of them, and Sobel would rise out from the licking flames, clad with a triton and horns. Yes, that sounds completely accurate.

It was Winters who got their attention. "At ease, Easy Company," he said, and had a look on his face George rarely saw, and couldn't decipher what it was.

"I think you'll be pleased to know," Winters continued, "That Sobel will be in board meetings with Colonel Sink for the remainder of today and tonight."

Easy then stirred with grins and small expressions of happiness and triumph. George felt an elbow nudge him in the ribs that came from Bull, who was smiling like crazy.

"On the insistence of Colonel Sink, Easy Company has their weekend passes granted. You're free to go gentlemen."

The murmurs transferred into full-blown cheers. High fives were thrown everywhere, as well as friendly punches in the shoulders, or slaps on the back. Even as reserved as Winters was, George could tell he was trying his hardest to compose himself, a smile forming on the corners of his small lipped mouth.

"However," Winter's calm voice stopped them from moving from their positions. "I wouldn't over indulge too much tonight if I were you, I'm going to assume that Sobel will have us make up lost time by running Currahee twice as hard early tomorrow. Have fun, just keep that in mind."

But even Winter's words of wisdom could not stop George's determination of taking the first bus into town that he could, going to the best bar there, and getting plastered with his boys.

"Alright, alright," Bill's Philly accent cut in the noise. "Who's gonna get down to the Information office to find us the first bus in town we can get?"

It was Lipton who spoke. "I will boys."

This freaked George out a little. Their Sargent was humble, good mannered guy who also happened to be married. Didn't really seem the drinking and darts type. Whatever, everyone needs a break once in a while, especially after the wrath of Sobel.

"You comin' out with us eh, Sarg?" said George happily, affectionately slapping Lip on the shoulder.

Lip smiled. "I'd rather be doin' somethin' then nothing with my free time."

"All I want to do is nothin'," said Talbert, sighing. "We don't stop moving, ever, and now that we get a chance to go have a good time all I want to do is sleep."

"Well while you're sleeping," started Liebgott, with a grin creeping up his mouth that slightly made him resemble a rat. "I'm gonna get on active duty, if you know what I mean," he finished with a wink to follow his wicked grin.

Out of all of Easy, Joseph Liebgott was the biggest perv. Sure, they all got horny sometimes, George included. But Liebgott was a billion times hornier then George _all the time. _For instance, he had been trying to get his scrawny little hands on some cheesecake porno magazine since the second week of Toccoa, and was always going on about his dream girl and how big her jugs were. George couldn't lie, after a while of hearing about it he wanted to shoot himself in the head because it got so annoying. George could feel the annoyingness that tonight would bring on for Liebgott. It would be his first time mingling with the female population for quite some time, and George knew if he got dirty tonight, Easy wouldn't hear the end of it until they jumped into Europe.

"Sexually transmitted diseases are not a joke, Joe," said George. "Why just take a look at Mr. Gonorrhea over there, why do you think he's so miserable?"

He gestured to the headstrong nineteen year old, who spun around furiously.

"Shut the fuck up, Luz" he said forcefully, although George knew he had tickled the unfunny-funny bone of Guarnere.

The men in first platoon had finally made it back to their cabin. Because of their morning Currahee run and obstacle courses, the cabin had the odour of sweaty socks and rotten onions.

"I don't know about you cheeseheads, but I'm showering up before we head out. Don't wanna repel the ladies ya know?" said Perco, grabbing his towel.

"You repel the ladies anyway Perc," George said, grinning.

Most men then ventured off to shower, and others who felt their cleanliness was acceptable sat on the cabin floor and started a game of craps.

"Luz, you gonna join us?" asked Hoobler from the floor.

"Nah man, I'm pretty sweaty myself, I think I might rinse up."

George very well knew he wasn't going to shower; he was heading right for Camp Fairchild (which was fairly close to the men's showers) and into cabin 4C, to meet the person he was missing out on for the past thirteen weeks.

He then ventured out of the cabin, and began what seemed like a treacherous journey into Medic-land. There were no guards, so sneaking into the camp would be easy, the hard part would be getting into Josie's cabin.

* * *

><p>He had now entered Camp Fairchild. Shit, he looked out of place with his brown paratrooper's uniform. Every person he saw wore a white armband with a red cross on it. Try to act like you belong, George told himself, and straightened his back out with confidence. His eyes scanned the cabins, 2A was closest to him at the moment. Damn, that meant walk further. Why did her cabin have to be so fucking far down the path? 3C, 3D, 3E, 4A. Okay, he was getting closer. When 4C came into view, a grin started to form on George's face, at the thought of Josie and him reuniting, like Batman and Robin.<p>

George then found himself walking up the stocky wooden stairs that lead to the pale grey door of the narrow building with white siding. He first craned his neck to have a peek in the window, and to his surprise the room has empty. Making sure there were no men of authority there to catch him, he slipped inside.

Wow, what the fuck? He thought when he got inside the building. These cabins were a million times nicer then theirs. The beds were dressed with faded blue linens that looked much warmer and softer then the shitty sheets in First Platoon's cabin. The floor didn't creak when he walked on it. Hell, it even smelt nice in there.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps pounding up the stairs of the building. Shit, what was he going to do? He was so fucked, if he was caught in here, it would look bad and stalker-like on his part. His eyes frantically darted for a good hiding spot. The best he could make out was under the bed, and before he could dive under it the door swung open.

George froze in fear, his heart pounding. Shit, shit, he was fucked. Why did he even come here in the first place?

"GEORGE!" squealed a familiar voice, and George looked up to see Josie. He didn't get a good look at her, because in seconds her petite frame had managed to tackle him onto the bed beside him.

"That's the enthusiasm I like, Tiger," George managed to choke out, as he was being smothered by a hug. Josie had wrapped her arms around him and was holding him like she was trying to rescue him from drowning or something.

He looked up at her. To George she hadn't changed in the past three months since he last saw her. Her saucer-like green eyes were as childlike and bright as he had always remembered, and her straw colored hair was tucked back into a bun, yet pieces of her untamed waves wished to escape and hung around her face frantically. Her skin that was reminiscent of a china doll was a shade or few darker, the Georgian sun had done its part. Josie had always been attractive, in George's eyes. Even in the third grade, when the two nearly looked the same. Josie's mom had gotten her a dreadful short haircut, and with scabby knees, a skinny frame and a fiery attitude to match, she could have been very well mistaken for a little boy in a dress. Well, maybe not. Josie always had a certain type of poise that made her very feminine. Even when she fist fought boys as a little girl, she did it as a lady.

"Finally got a weekend pass, eh?" she said, punching him in the ribs.

"You betcha," said George. "Shit head Sobel finally let us off because he was in a meeting."

"Who's Sobel?" she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

"Damn, I sure have a lot to tell you, kid," said George, scratching the back of his neck. "Sobel's our Captain, and he's a complete asshole-dingy-chicken-fuck."

Josie raised her eyebrows. "That's quite some description."

"I swear to God he's the antichrist. Every weekend he takes away our weekend passes, and he nearly runs us to death every day. I feel like I'm in prison rather then boot camp."

"Remember that you were the one who signed up for this shit," Josie said, smirking.

"Hey!" George exclaimed with a frown, and slapped her on the arm. "Give a little sympathy, huh?"

She chuckled. "I'm just saying."

"How's your training going?" George asked.

She sighed. "It's alright, the first few months were spent learning about the anatomy and how it works, especially important arteries and shit like that. Now they're teaching us proper procedure and everything to patch guys up. We just finished a test on the anatomy."

"Sounds better then jump school," said George, who pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and placed it in his mouth. While he reached for his lighter, Josie's hands stopped him.

"You can't smoke in here!" she said with distress, and yanked the cig out of his mouth.

"Ey, why not?" said George, with outrage apparent in his tone. He tried to reach back for the smoke but Josie pulled it behind her. "Give it back Jos, it's not funny!"

"We're not allowed to smoke in here, if we're caught we get in shit!"

George stared at her blankly for a moment, then erupted with laughter.

"Wait… You're telling me there's no smoking? No smoking?" he asked, with his expression that was mixture of both disbelief and hilarity.

"Well yeah, they kinda teach us that smoking is bad for you… Plus our Sergeant is a total fucking nun who would tattle on us right away."

George's expression remained the same. "You gotta get outta here, no fucking smoking? What kind of a place is this?"

The room was filled with the pair's impassioned laughter, then suddenly fell silent due to the quiet sounds of women's chatter that came from outside the door.

George froze, and looked at Josie in shock.

"Shit! They're back already!" Josie cried in panic. "Quick!" she snapped her fingers frantically, "Get under my bed!"

In one swift movement, George hit the floor and had army crawled under Josie's bunk. "Shit!" he growled as his elbow hit something hard, like a box or something. He then pulled himself to the position where he was unseen by the women in the cabin yet had a clear view of them.

The women of the 301st division of Women's Nurse Corps slowly started to file in the building. They weren't as George expected- young and attractive like Josie. Actually, the number of middle-aged, plump women seemed to outweigh the amount of pretty little girls in the cabin.

"You're a fast walker Josephine," said a woman with a loud voice. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, with faun colored hair with flecks of grey. Her skin looked wrinkled and weather-beaten, with sunken black eyes that had a seedy sensation similar to Sobel's.

Josie laughed uncomfortably. "Finished our anatomy exam early, Missus."

The woman smiled, in a way George found kind of creepy. He had never taken a likening to older ladies, they always were yelling at him for being on their lawns and whatnot as a kid.

"Smart cookie," she said.

A young girl started to cross the cabin towards Josie's bunk. Damn, what a looker! Thought George. She was Hispanic looking; she had a stunning heart shaped face with big brown eyes and cupid bow's lips. Her skin was toasted to perfection and her jet-black hair shone with beauty. George couldn't help but notice her rather big jugs too. She stopped in front of the bunk beside Josie.

"How'd you find the exam?" Josie asked.

At this point, George couldn't help but notice all the girls started stripping down to their undergarments in the room. His eyes darted to a redhead in the corner, who had a pretty face, but her body was a bit too thin for his likening. He tried to block the images of all the old ladies out of his vision. Oh dear God have some mercy, he thought. He caught an middle aged woman in her bra, with all her wrinkles and lard hanging out. Fuck, put that away! That's nasty!

"I thought it was difficult," the Latino girl's softly accented voice drew him back to her. Oh thank God. Yes! Thought George as she started to take her uniform off. This must be his lucky day. One by one, she slipped articles of clothing off herself. Oh fuck he was getting lucky, she better be at the bar tonight. Once she was down to her bra, her curves and tits pierced George's mind like first discovering a book of dirty pictures in his Pop's toolbox when he was thirteen. Without realizing it, he let out a small moan of delight, "Oh baby".

Upon hearing George's groan, Josie thrust her heel into his hand, in which he whimpered in pain. What the fuck, bitch? Cut your best friend a break huh?

George could feel sadness enter him once the girls started to pull on their dress uniforms, however was delighted that the old hags throughout the room were putting some fucking clothes on. Slowly, they all started to file out of the cabin, however the Latino girl stayed.

"Everyone is heading to the mess hall for dinner, then some of us are heading out to town," said the Hispanic girl. "You are coming, right?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you there," said Josie happily.

"I hope there are good looking boys from the Airbourne out tonight," the girl said, sighing.

Josie laughed. "Can't say I know any yet."

George frowned, knowing that was directed at him. Bitch.

"I heard there's this Lieutenant from Dog Company who is absolutely gorgeous," the Latino girl was saying, and George racked his brain to try to figure out who it was.

"Although he's very stern and serious. We would never have a chance with him, but at least its something nice to look at. Apparently he's better looking then any film star!"

Josie laughed once again. "I'll have to see for myself."

The girl then started towards the exit of the cabin. "See you Josie!"

"Bye," Josie mumbled. Once George heard the door click shut, he scrambled out from under the bed.

"Damn, she's one fucking good lookin' broad!"

Josie looked annoyed. "Gloria?"

"That her name?" George said, taking a seat on the bed next to Josie. "Think I'd have a shot with her in the sack tonight?"

Josie scoffed. "Good luck. Gloria Rodriguez knows she's beautiful, so her standards are pretty high."

George scowled. Sometimes Josie was so loving, and other times she could be such a bitch. "You sayin' I'm not a good looking guy?"

Josie grinned. "I think you're good looking. She might not."

Well, at least Josie thought he was good looking. It always boggled George that he had always thought Josie carried a torch for him, yet whenever he asked she always refused him. Women are fucking confusing creatures.

"I have a present for you, by the way," said Josie, who leaned over the bed and pulled out a small, square, wooden box from under it. That must have been what George banged his elbow on. Josie then started to rifle through the things in the box, which appeared to mostly be un-regulation clothing, and pulled out a bright orange ball and tossed it into George's hands. Once it landed George realized it was an orange.

"Stole it from our mess hall. You'd better eat it fast, so there's no evidence."

George quickly started peeling back the orange as quickly as he could, and when he got to the edible part took a big bite. The juices of the citrus penetrated his taste buds with delight, and he savored the delicious fruit for as long as he could. He hadn't had an orange in fucking forever. Ever since everyone went broke in Rhode Island, he thought that imported fruits might have been swept off the planet forever.

"Love you, Jos," he managed to spit out with a full mouth.

"You better," she said, and pulled out her dress uniform.

"Ugh God, I don't want to wear this out tonight, it's hideous," she said, holding it out in front of her. "Maybe I'll just change into the blue dress once we get there."

Oh God, the blue dress. In George's eyes, whoever made that blue dress was an angel, because it made Josie look like a fucking pin-up girl. No, sexier then a pinup girl. It showed off all the right things, her curves, her breasts and her ass.

"Oh yeah," George moaned, still digging into the orange.

Josie smirked. "Shut up you pig. Now turn around, I have to get changed."

"C'mon Jos, you can't make me turn around, that's just cruel! That's like waving a million bucks in front of a hobo's face then not letting him have it!"

"Aw, poor wittle Georgie. Turn around, for me to be somewhat decent, kid."

George sighed and rolled his eyes, then repositioned himself on the bed. He could hear her uniform start to come off, as well as see her clothes drop to the floor out of the corner of his eye.

"C'mon Jos, just one little peek. I never get to see your tits, only in a bathing suit," he begged.

"But Jesus wouldn't like that George," she said, in a voice that mocked the nuns who used to teach them in school.

George couldn't take it anymore. He spun around to find her already fully dressed. The uniform wasn't much of a boner-killer as Josie had expressed, the white skirt and blazer hugged her curves snugly, yet the dress shirt underneath really cut off all the booby action George was hoping for.

"See? It's ugly!" she said, throwing her arms up and spinning around.

George looked her up and down. "It makes your ass look nice."

She slapped him gently. "C'mon, let's get on the bus, asshole."


	6. Oh, Alcohol

**Sorry for the wait on this one, I've been really busy and kinda/sorta managing my time really crappily for writing. Anyway, here's the next chapter up, and it's once again really long! There's some sexuality and lot's of swearing in this one, so reader's discretion is advised! Enjoy and please review!**

_**Disclaimer/ I do not own HBO or Band of Brothers yada yada. Also no disrespect towards any veterans!**_

* * *

><p>The bar George and Josie entered that night was called the Hammytackler. It was a worn and withered old tavern seasoned with the southern spice that made it feel like it had been home in Georgia forever. It had rusty sienna colored shingles and wooden beam walls that were in desperate need of a paint job. Despite the visible outdoor improvement, the obnoxious red letters over the front doors screamed for attention, and it seemed to work because the loud ruckus inside the bar could be heard three doors down the street.<p>

Josie almost found herself gagging as George pushed open the saloon-like doors for her. The trenchant smell of cigarettes and alcohol was suffocating for a girl on the small side whom, in the last half year had been bereaved of anything of the sort. Josie never really smoked, only on occasion. In her case, the only pungent smell of cigarettes she could detect in the last five months was the stale tobacco that clung to George's uniform, though nearly not enough entered her lungs as she wanted. She longed to hug George without him shoving her back, like she was one of his male buddies. She wanted her cheek to feel the rough material of his green jump jacket, and wanted his prominent smell of stale cigs and cotton to sift through her nose. His eyes. His hair. His muscular arms, him without clothes on… her without clothes on. Them together, all sweaty…

Fucking God, Josie. Snap the fuck out of it, she told herself. After her first encounter with George in camp, she had been having similar fantasies every night. After he told her she could fuck right off, reality hit her like a fucking bomb dropped by the Luftwaffe. George was never gonna fuck her, no matter how many times he pretended like he was. He just wouldn't, at least she thought so. So, lying in bed at night, Josie tried to trample every little hope she had to the ground, so when maybe her chance came around, the rejection wouldn't hurt like shrapnel hitting her intestines.

Josie let out a rather large, phlegmy cough as the pair entered the building.

"That's really lovely sound you just made Josie, can I hear it again?" quipped George, flashing his trademark toothy grin.

Her mucky green eyes narrowed at him, yet this seemed to pull the grin wider on his face.

"I'm sure every man in this bar will be all over you after hearing that."

Josie could feel unbalanced anger broiling inside her, not exactly triggered by his comment, more so why she couldn't have the perfectly shaped body that she knew best, when she wanted it with such aggression.

"No one's going to wanna fuck you, your fucking fat head would squash them," she spat through gritted teeth.

George's warm brown eyes suddenly expanded to saucers with confusion, yet the guilt Josie usually experienced after bitching at George didn't shock her stomach this time. He asked for it.

"Woah, this your, you know, special week of the month?"

Was he fucking trying to perturb her to the point of explosion? Well, looking at his big chestnut eyes and continuously handsome features, the only thing that Josie knew would be exploding were her ovaries. She could never stay mad at George, though she had to pretend like she was, just so he kept trying to at least engage her, even if it was pissing her off. She cringed at the thought of her being so fucking pathetic. She had to get her best friend to annoy the fuck out of her to keep him amused, so he wouldn't get bored and pick up where the conversation left off with some random girl standing over at the bar and not Josie.

"Fuck off George," she muttered, looking away from him. The bar seemed to be overcrowded; several sweaty bodies all dazzled in uniforms were cramped together at small circular tables.

She looked back at George, and his eyes were forgiving.

"C'mon Tiger," he soughed, and his comic brown eyes sparkled with charm. "Let's start this night on a right foot, alright? I can introduce you to the fellas."

His smile was contagious, like a virus that spread and infected every living being in the area every time he opened his mouth to say something, even if it was garbled bullshit. Josie had caught the grin.

"What about a left foot?"

George stuck out his left arm graciously, as if he were a prince "An arm?"

Josie's eyelashes fluttered, mimicking the feeling of butterflies arising in her stomach. She reached out and wrapped her hand around George's wrist, so her arm rested peacefully on his, and in unison they stepped towards the table where Easy Company sat.

Though every boy at the table looked different, and came with vastly separate facial features, hair colours and builds, they all seemed to blur together wearing matching dress uniforms.

"Hey Luz!" called a voice, whom Josie matched with a little tanned man, with jet black hair, a narrow face and thick eyebrows. He had a half cocked grin on his face, which caused his eyes to squint.

"Perc." A wooden stool made a god-awful sound as it scraped on the floor when George pulled it out for Josie, and he sat down in the one next to her.

"This must be the girl of yours I've heard so much about," chirped the little man, and Josie detected an accent that hinted that the man was from the Chicago area. He held out a hand for Josie to shake.

"Oh, how rude of me," announced George, leaning back in his stool. "Midget meet assface. Assface meet the shortest man in all of America."

The man shot George the death glare, and Josie assumed that he and George were good enough friends already because her smart assed friend hadn't gotten the shit beaten out of him yet.

"My names Frank, Frank Perconte," he introduced, as Josie grasped his hand, which was warm and rough, like the pages of the old school textbooks.

"Josie Adkins."

"Pretty name," said Frank, beaming.

"Yeah, well that's what my Mom thought, I suppose."

George then introduced Josie to the rest of Easy Company. All of the men seemed nice enough, and by the looks of it, they adored George. Every time something came out of his mouth, whether by Josie's standards it was utterly stupid, they laughed and cheered like a class of first graders laughing at a clown while at the circus. The only man who brought a very interesting reaction to the introduction was none other then Joe Liebgott.

"Hey George!" called Liebgott, who strolled up to the table where Josie sat, placed his elbow beside her and leaned on it, nonchalantly.

"Why didn't you bother to introduce me to your lady-friend?" he said, and his charming dark eyes gazed up at Josie, which sounded stupid but it intimidated her a little.

Meanwhile, George, who was very dedicated to the beer in his hand, quickly slammed the beer down, his eyes bulging with shock. What was this guy, a serial rapist or something?

"You stay away from her, Joe," he demanded, and the shock on his face was replaced with a grin. Joe Liebgott cracked a kindly smile, which caused the nervous pangs in Josie's stomach to disappear.

"I just wanted to be a gentleman and say hello," he rendered, "I'm Joe."

Josie shifted in her chair. "I'm Joe too, Joe-see."

"Interesting, funny one you've got here Luz," Liebgott said, winking and clicking his teeth.

"Josie," started George, leaning his head into the conversation. "Do me a favor and stay the fuck away from this guy," he teased, grinning.

Joe scratched the back of his neck, slightly abashed by the situation. "I wouldn't worry too much, Luz. I'm off to do bigger and better things, like that Spanish girl over there." His hand that clutched a beer gestured to Gloria, who stood in the corner, picking up conversation with Dotty, another girl in Josie's nursing squad.

Josie caught George's eye, and the two burst out in laughter. "Good luck with that," teased George, which prompted Liebgott to walk away in a confused manner.

Noticing Josie was drinkless at the moment, "Why's an alcoholic like you got no drink?" George chastised.

Josie sighed with exasperation. She wanted to take it easy tonight. Josie was what is known as a giant lightweight. About five shots of rum and she was giggling and over every guy all night, she rolled her eyes at the fact that George knew this fact very well.

"I don't wanna go to over-board tonight," Josie mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Well, Jos," the devilishly handsome man started, laying his hand gently on his best friend's shoulder. Josie's insides felt as if they were being coated with warm butter at the touch. "This is my first night off in fucking forever, and it feels like I haven't seen you in fucking forever! All wanna do is get drunk with my best lady and pretend we're back at home, that ain't too much to ask is it?"

Josie's mind slowly faded back to every drunken night her and George shared back in Rhode Island (that she could remember, at least). Jesus Christ there was a lot of them. In fact, her first time drinking was with George. They were in freshman year, and George's older brother Paul had successfully stolen a bottle of Gin from their father's liquor cabinet. Down on the beach, the three of them managed to down the whole thing in a matter of minutes. As nasty as the straight shit tasted, Josie poured her share down the hatch with ease, she could vividly remember the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the excitement bubbling in her stomach, the feeling she got when she was being naughty or breaking the rules. Needless to say, the night ended with two wobbly boys trying to sneak a girl who was tossing her cookies everywhere back into her bedroom in the middle of the night.

Josie laughed, and her green eyes locked with his brown ones. "Go buy me a drink then, hot-shot."

George slammed his hand down on the table, and his expression was ultimately delightful. "That's what I'm talking about!"

He hopped down from his stool in a joyous manner, and skipped off like a schoolboy who had seen his first set of breasts. Josie giggled and a sudden realization hit her that she really needed George. She needed his presence there to keep her happy, his laugh, his unique voice, his substantial amount of shiny brown hair, big puppy eyes, his smell… Oh fuck; she could feel the dread starting the settle in her stomach. It was the dread she had consistently tried not to activate by thinking about the day when she and George had to part ways, were shipped off the different places in Europe. Fuck, not even, for all she knew she or he could be sent to the Pacific. Or Italy, North Africa, China, she could be sent fucking anywhere and be deprived of George for how many years Hitler and the Japs wanted this shit to go on for. She tried to block it out of her mind, pretend like they would stay together the whole war, and never leave each other. She had to forget about it, even if it was just for the night.

Josie then picked up a conversation with the guy across from her, Skip Muck, whom she took an instant, extreme likening to. He was a total sweetheart, not a bad bone in his body. This made Josie's mind boggle, at the thought of the inevitably good-natured figure before her killing another man. Then again, George would be doing the same thing. She shuddered at the fact that the boy she adored so dearly would be laying rifle rounds into another man's heart, then twice as hard at the thought that George may get a bullet in his chest himself.

She could see George strutting back towards her with another beer for him, and what looked like a Pink Lady for her, yet he was stopped with a shout from Bill Guarnere. While trying to make it look like she was knee-deep in conversation with Skip, she inclined her ear so that she could hear what Bill was saying to George.

"So, you and the girl, huh, are you guys…" He made a quick sexual gesture, like he was humping the table.

George scoffed, and Josie was pierced with offense. Dick, he could at least pretend like she was decent, instead of acting like he thought of her as a cow.

"Naw, man," he chirped, then paused with thought. "We're like… like a llama and an alpaca." Bill's expression yelled _what the fuck are you talking about _yet it didn't seem to bother George. What the fuck was he getting at? Sometimes Josie hated his use of retarded analogies, yet other times it was fucking hilarious.

"We're similar, but we don't fuck," he drawled, cocking an eyebrow, proud of his witty metaphor. Josie could feel her heart sinking. She already knew the reality of her situation, but to hear it from the man himself suddenly made it ten times worse.

Bill just stared at him. "You're one fucking odd guy Luz."

George laughed and placed a hand on Bill's shoulder. "That's what they know me for, Gonorrhea."

It seemed like George was then caught up in a conversation with First Sargent Lipton, who sat beside Bill, and Josie realized this was a fantastic opportunity to check out every boy in the regiment she thought was worthy of any sexual act. She certainly couldn't with George around, for he would bring it to everyone's attention and embarrass the shit out her, not to mention make everything awkward. Her eyes glided among the young faces of the paratroopers seated around the room. Hmm, Talbert was somewhat cute, at least when he smiled he was. Babe Heffron lived up to his nickname, for in Josie's eyes he was quite the babe. However, he seemed too shy, not much of her type. And Webster… Josie couldn't even start about Webster. His eyes shone like the sun reflecting off of the ocean, his thick brown waves of hair were matted to his head. God he was fucking handsome. Josie could even see the hair on his chest poking out from under his shirt. She loved the brutish type of manly men.

Staring at Webster, Josie realized that it had been a fucking long time since she last had sex. She could have slapped herself in the face for thinking so crudely and pervishly. It was normal though, right? Like, she certainly wasn't the only girl who thought about these things, at least not the only girl still trying to mature and still had school-girl thoughts about males. It wasn't like she was going to go whore around tonight either, like most of the girls in her company would. Well, actually it was a possibility…

It wouldn't be_ that_ bad. She was no nun, and never had been. Most of these guys would be shipped to another camp within a matter of months and she would never see them again. It wouldn't be an odd occurrence, most of the guys here were ten times hornier then her. She could just have a quick roll with one and get on back to camp, it wasn't such a bad idea.

Okay, what the fuck Josie. She could have banged her head off the table for being so dirty, for even considering acting like a complete prostitute for a night. She wasn't like that, never was, so why was she thinking so much now?

When George arrived back at his seat, she downed her cocktail and thought she would let the alcohol make her decisions for the night.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Luz," Malark elbowed him in the ribs. George sighed and passed him another beer, taking one for himself. It was turning out to be a pretty damn good night. He actually won a game of darts for once in his life, although he lost twenty bucks in a game of craps. Nevertheless he was quite buzzed and was enjoying some man-to-man bonding with his best friends.<p>

"Looks like your little friend over there is havin' a jolly old time," he said, flicking his chin towards a round table across the room. At the table sat Josie, who was now clothed in her revealing royal blue dress, with her tits pushed right up in a drunk and happy looking Joe Toye's face. She was cackling like a hyena rather obnoxiously at something he said. Her blond ringlets were starting to go slack, her once cherry red lips were now faded, and the lipstick was slightly smeared on her mouth. Her eyes had gone bloodshot and now had a watery glaze to them.

Way to go Josie, drunk as a fucking skunk. God damn his best friend who couldn't hold her alcohol. Now it was his fucking responsibility to make sure she got on that bus and back to camp without hitting the sack with some weirdo. He knew that he didn't have to take care of her, but if he didn't he figured there would be a saddening guilt wrapped up inside him for who knows how long.

"Fucking lightweight," muttered George and rustled through his pockets, then slapped some change down on the bar for the bartender. The bartender, with an aging face and hair the color of salt and pepper stared into George's eyes. "Bar's closin' soon," he growled in a withered Georgian drawl, his vocal chords sounded as if they had been worn down by sandpaper. Nevertheless, George tipped an invisible top hat at him and carried on his way.

Though the floor was slightly spinning like a sailboat in a storm, George somehow had successfully traipsed over to Josie.

"Georgie!" Josie shrieked, upon seeing George come into sight. Quicker then a flash, Josie flung her wavering arms around his shoulders and in the process smacked him in the jaw with one of her uncontrolled hands. Fuck. The proportioned area of George's lower cheek stung from the unnecessary force.

"Jesus fucking Christ Josie," grumbled George as his free hand reached up and massaged the aching and inflamed area on his face. His other hand was braced tightly against Josie's back, preventing her from stumbling out of her stool and crashing onto the floor. What a fucking mess.

She giggled childishly, bearing an odd resemblance to a deranged little Shirley Temple knocked out on her Grandpa's cough syrup. Her glassy eyes gazed at George adoringly and she had a dumb little grin on her face.

"The bar's a closin' now, time to bring you back to the State of Georgia Mental Institution."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You liar," she slurred.

Mother of Abraham Lincoln's testicles, Josie was such a bi-polar drunk. One minute she was all lovey-dovey, the next getting all defensive and trying to scratch George's eyes out, or she would start balling like a three year old.

"I swear on my Grandma's grave I'm not lying," George pursued.

She frowned in a baby like way and crossed her arms in front of her rather well… Wow. Oh Jesus, they looked good. George was just realizing this now, he was rather blessed to be able to look at Josie's well, perky girls. It felt like an hour staring at them, but it had only been a few seconds. Was he drooling? Oh shit…

"I wan-na sta-ay!" she whined, bouncing in her stool drunkenly.

George rolled his eyes with exasperation. Why couldn't she be a normal drunk girl who stays sauve and just gets really horny? Well, normal or not, this is how George liked to think of drunk girls, not as bratty four year olds trapped in a twenty-year old's body.

"I swear to God Josie, I will throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and haul you back to camp if I need to," George relayed.

"I don't want my face hanging over your sweaty asscrack," Josie sassed, and her shoulder's jumped nervously as she leaned too far back in her stool, yet her heroic George was there for her rescue.

George smiled thoughtfully, with emphasized false gratitude. "Lovely."

By now the bartender was mumbling insults to his patrons, and the many inhabitants of the bar were beginning to shuffle out the saloon-like doors. George switched his eye contact from a loud, beaming Joe Toye trying to stumble his way over to Malarkey to Josie who was slouched in her stool.

"Alright schweetheart, I'm gonna tell you nicely we have to go, but if you start actin' up things are gonna get nasty."

Josie rolled her eyes and made a raspberry at him.

George shrugged whole-heartedly. This certainly wasn't the first time Josie unleashed the most wildest and violent verbal beating on her. But, she brought it on herself, what must be done must be done.

"Look," sighed George. "I don't want to do this Josie."

Josie sneered drunkenly. "Bring it on, cowboy."

George shrugged once again, "If you wish. Alright you alcohol fiend, time to get back to hooker-ville. If you don't get your fucking lazy ass up, I'll take your mother out for a nice Brandy-Manhattan and never write her back."

She frowned. "Leave my Mother out of this, she's a nice lady!"

George crossed his arms in front of him. "Then you've got ten seconds to be out that door with me," he pointed towards the door, where many uniformed men were still hobbling out.

She blew a great amount of air out of her nose in frustration, her face reminiscent of a little girl who got coal in her stocking at Christmas. "Fine… I can't get there in ten seconds," she mumbled, and clumsily stumbled out of her stool with George's assistance. "You're setting me up for a failure."

George couldn't manage to suppress a laugh. God, sometimes drunk people were so unintentionally hilarious. George threw his arm around her shoulder, even at his short stature Josie's head was buried in his under arm. She slid one of her spaghetti-like arms across his lower back, and clutched on to the green scratchy material of his uniform for support. One by one, she took baby steps that bore quite a resemblance to Frankenstein. One of her red patent heels nicked a table leg and she clumsily stumbled around, with George holding on to her tighter.

"C'mon, that's it Tiger," his voice transitioned from his normally loud and sarcastic tone to a faint and concerned one, as he gently guided her hands through the room. Although he was the one babysitting her right at the moment, his mind began to drift off and picture what it was like without her. After they got shipped out, he meant. Back on the glorious tiny state Josie was as much as a both motherly and wife figure towards him. Although she could be quite towheaded herself she always seemed to keep George at least a little bit in line. Well, she kept him from being thrown in jail, if possible. He was gonna miss her. He didn't know how the fuck he was going to follow orders if they didn't come with her advisement. He figured that he'd probably have a little conscientious Josie in the back of his head telling him what to do the whole time.

In what seemed like years, George had managed to get Josie out the cigarette and alcohol polluted building to a small bus that was cramped, stuffy and smelt of rubber. The whole bus ride consisted of: Grant, Penkala and Malarkey loudly singing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, in high pitched voices sounded like a pair of dying horses; Liebgott desperately scrambling from girl to girl in the Nurses Corps trying to get his last chance to get it in; Lt. Nixon half heartedly arguing with the driver who didn't want him to spill his flask everywhere; Josie petting a passed out Joe Toye's head while saying something about baby bunnies; and Lipton running around like a chicken with his head cut off, making sure that every Easy boy was safe and no one was choking on their own vomit. The whole situation George found quite amusing. By this time most of his buzz had worn off and he was left to soberly analyze the scenario. Ah, the dynamics that protrude after alcohol is added to the equation. What a truly wonderful yet chaotic thing it was.

The bus finally stopped in the entrance of the base, where the passengers on the bus staggered out. Lipton had Joe Toye's arm slung over him and was struggling to drag him out the bus. He caught George's eye, and cracked a humble smile.

"Hopefully we have an easy day tomorrow," he said.

George cocked an eyebrow. He could dream of an easy day, but with Shit head Sobel back there would certainly be no easy in Easy Company.

"We can only dream, Lip."

Lipton nodded curtly and was aided by Skip, who took the unbearably heavily load of Joe Toye off him at the bottom of the bus stairs. To George's amusement Joe nearly knocked little Skip over after tumbling out the bus.

George nearly forgot about the girl in his arms, and was alerted by a groan that escaped her lips.

"I'm gonna regret this tomorrow," she moaned, leaning her head on George's arm. George grinned and patted her head.

"Bet ya will, kid."

The two traipsed through the camp grounds, George gracefully making his way through the rolling and mucky Georgian grass while Josie drunkenly fumbled around like a foal making an attempt to walk for the first time. George took notice when she sniffed the sleeve of her dress and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I know you smell bad," George quipped, grinning. "I have to smell you on a regular basis."

"I smell like… like..."

"Joe Toye's sweaty PT socks?"

At the mention of Joe Toye's name, Josie let out a girly little giggle. George froze and his eyes widened like saucers, staring at Josie in disbelief. He knew that giggle. Oh shit, no. Not Joe Toye.

"You didn't…"

Josie looked at the ground, rouge flushing into her cheeks. "D-did, what?" she managed between little fits of snickers.

"Oh fuck no. Please tell me you didn't fuck Josie… Please."

Her eyes quickly swapped from amusement to childish fear. "…We didn't do, the you know, unholy deed. We just… had a good time," she feebly said, and the girly little grin was starting to reappear on her mouth. Motherfuckin' wild child. He should have known better then to got her that Pink Lady, because once Josie is buzzed, all fucking hell breaks loose and any type of sexual tension is demolished.

George's eyes narrowed at her. "Define good time, Josie."

She rolled her eyes snottily. "I'm not a walking dictionary, take a hint," she said, and though she was still very far from sobriety, George was starting to notice that the slur in her voice was fading. Jesus Christ, the attitude with this one sometimes. George had the numbing fear in the pit of his stomach that Josie and Joe Toye got down tonight. Was it jealously? Yes, there wasn't any denying. He wasn't about to see his best friend get rode and chucked by some shithead like Toye. At least it was better then Liebgott. A fucking gorilla would be better then Lieb. Not that he didn't love the kid, but after hearing his words of wisdom about women, George made it his duty to make sure Jos didn't come in a eight inch radius of the man. If someone was gonna fuck Josie, he might as well do it the right way, like George would. However, he believed Josie's honesty that they didn't do the dirty, which caused him to backpedal to third base.

"Please don't tell me you sucked his dick…"

Josie looked around nervously, ignoring George and started to whistle a little swing tune, which made her answer quite obvious.

George's face contorted in disgust. "Oh my God Josie! Fuck! Why him? Why that? Oh God, you're fucking nasty sometimes!"

By this time her face was as red as a tomato. "If you must know, I was just returning the favor."

Ew. Fuck. Gross. George pretended like she hadn't said that, and shut his eyes, trying to burn the image before it came to life. It wasn't the picture of Josie naked, trust him, he had imagined that countless times before. But it was her and Joe Toye which made him wanna toss his cookies everywhere.

"Fuck me Josie. You're fucking nasty, you know that right? Out of all people, why fucking Joe Toye! Why not anyone!"

Josie's eyes narrowed sneeringly, even in her drunken state. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous, George Luz."

Yeah, he was. So the fuck what? What if he cared about Josie and didn't want her getting thrown around and rode like a bicycle? She was his confidant, mentor, and everything in between and he wasn't going to let her lose her mental prowess because of some GI fucknut.

"Bet you'd like that," he muttered under his alcohol-stained breath. At his moderate remark, Josie's eyes made furious contact with his.

"Yeah, maybe I do George!" She snapped, her voice becoming dry with edging sobriety, though she was still intoxicated as the minutes waned on she was coming more and more like herself. "But it wouldn't make a difference to you, would it Captain Oblivious?"

Wow way to be subtle, Jos. George had always prided himself in his ability to read between the lines, yet Josie had always nagged at him for the common trait that males shared of obliviousness. You can only go so far in life when you're a guy.

George dropped his jaw in a melodramatic fashion. "Are you declaring your love for me, honey?"

He grinned and clicked his teeth as he saw that he was successful in his mission of making her cheeks transition from the paleness of the moon to the rouge of her lipstick. She cast him a satanic look, causing him to wince.

"No," she mumbled, shifting her eyes to the ground, and her lioness like persona had collapsed into a little puppy after being whipped.

"Maybe that little confession would have been more successful if you hadn't scrubbed down Joe," George contended, a smile budding on his lips.

The two had finally reached the vicinity of where Josie's cabin was, and George could sigh millions of times of the thought of hiking back to his own cabin, which was quite a stretch away, and of which he had to do in some moments time.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Josie's voice broke the tension that was unbeknownst to the two, which lingered in the humid Georgian air.

"Don't apologize to me," scoffed George, grinning at her. "I don't need an apology, but maybe the nuns in the abbey do."

She let out a sigh that breathed forgiveness, and squeezed his forearm affectionately.

"George Luz, what would I do without you?"

He shrugged, with a half-cocked grin. "Try askin' yourself that when one of us get's shipped out," he upbraided, his stomach freezing at the thought. She looked down at her feet.

"Yeah, well don't remind me," she mumbled, as they stopped in front of her cabin, where the lights had now been shut off.

"Promise you'll come see me next pass?"

George winked. "You bet."

He took one fleeting glance at his best friend as she ungraciously tip toed up the stairs and into her cabin, then he spun around and made the long venture back to Camp Toccoa.


	7. When Alligators Attack

**So so so so sorry for the long wait on this chapter! I went on a March break trip with my school to England and France, which was just lovely! This is kind of a silly little chapter, I tried to add lots of goofy dialogue, because after this shit gets hardcore. Please review and enjoy! ;)**

* * *

><p>"Psst…"<p>

George opened his puffy, sleepless eyes, and pulled his face off of his pillow, which seemed to be bound together with glue. If it was Perconte trying to wake him up for no good reason he was going to sock him in the mouth.

He propped his elbows up in front of him and his eyes glanced about the cabin, which turned out to be worthless because he couldn't see anything but the vague and dark outlines of his fellow paratroopers sleeping soundly in their beds. The misty and translucent reflection of the moon sifted through the back window beside George's bed and onto his blankets, yet it was so faint it did not aid his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust his groggy eyes to the desperate lack of sunlight, and looked over at Perco, who appeared to be fast asleep. His hair was matted on his forehead with sweat and his jaw hung open, drool escaping down his chin and onto his pillow. Sleeping beauty, huh?

Giving up, George rotated himself back around and placed his head on his pillow and closed his eyes again. With his eyes closed, his ears were quite alert. He could hear a choir of crickets in the distance, pouring out their lonely laments. Snores echoed throughout the cabin, the majority coming from Malarkey. Jesus Christ that kid could wake up the entire fucking camp, George wondered how he had managed to fall and stay asleep all these nights in Toccoa. Probably because they were so damn tired all the time.

"Pssst! George Luz!"

This time George jolted his eyes open, wide-awake. Who the fuck was calling his name? The voice was hushed, yet seemingly anxious or excited, one of which he could not tell, and it was coming from his vicinity.

He once again stared down Perconte, who hadn't moved, and then repositioned his eyes over to Malarkey, who's snores were annoyingly consistent. If this was some sort of joke, he was sure the instigator would find it hilarious to have his nose smashed in…

Suddenly, the raucous sound of an indictable small object ricocheted off of the outer side of the window, leaving a loud cracking sound in its path.

George leapt out of his bed with the sprightliness of a jungle cat chasing it's prey, perhaps with lesser grace and agility. In the process, his sheets tumbled off of his bunk and he clumsily stumbled over them, closely avoiding a collision between his face and the floor. He caught himself, and stood frozen in fear. His eyes glanced about the cabin, and he silently prayed that he hadn't woken up the whole fucking platoon. He closed his eyes as internal relief washed over him; everyone appeared to be sleeping like a log.

He staggered over the window; he was still slightly numbed with sleep, including his brain, which hadn't seemed to be functioning like it usually did.

The moonlight was nearly blinding, so George shielded his eyes with his hand. When his eyes adjusted, he was appalled by what he saw.

Crazy bitch.

There stood Josie, clad in white cotton shorts at a length her mother wouldn't approve of, a matching collared and long sleeved pajama shirt. Her feet were bare and her curls were frizzed and stuck out in a frenzied mess. Her expression was a mix of wild excitement and anxiety, her eyes had a crazed look to them.

What the fuck? Did she sneak some uppity drugs from one of her classes? What the hell was she doing?

"George!" She cried in a hyped-up whisper. She frantically gestured with her hands for him to come join her.

George's eyes bulged at her. _What-the-fuck? _he mouthed at her, and threw his hands in the air whole heartedly. Crazy fucking bitch! What's wrong with her? George suddenly felt anger bubbling inside of him. She was a child, such a fucking child! They weren't in Rhode Island anymore, where they could pull this shit, they were in a military camp where things are a whole lot fucking stricter. Did she even realize the repercussions if he or she were ever caught? There was no doubt he'd get his stripes ripped off his arm and thrown on a train back home, to be fucking humiliated in front of his family for the rest of the war.

"Come George, it's real important, I swear!" she hushed desperately, a stupid smile on her face, which made George even more infuriated.

George nervously looked about the cabin, relieved that no one had woken up yet.

"No, go away!" he hissed angrily, narrowing his eyes menacingly at her.

Josie let out a long breath out, and bit her lip in frustration. "Please," she pleaded desperately.

Alright, this was it. George was going out there. Not because she wanted him to, but to receive the verbal reprimanding she deserved.

He moved his eyes to the main door in front of the cabin, which seemed two thousand light years away from where he was standing. There was no fucking way he could get out there without being caught by a CO of some type. He had to go through the window. Taking another shy look around, he slowly unlocked the window, each side making a _click _as he did. He squeezed his eyes and held his breath at the noise, silently praying no one had heard. After listening to the unchanging rhythm of Malarkey's snores for a moment, he slowly pushed the window open, letting the humid Georgian air waft in. Placing on foot on his bed, he lowered himself to the sill, where he could comfortably jump out.

He winced as his feet hit the warm and wet dirt. Josie immediately advanced and threw her arms around him, much to George's dismay. He pushed her off of him quickly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" He hissed. Josie's expression immediately switched, as if he had just ripped her heart out on the spot.

"Do you even realize how much shit I could get in for this? You're so fucking immature Josie!" he mutedly snapped. He froze as he saw out of the corner of his eye that a light had flicked on in the neighboring cabin.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was the fucking CO's cabin!

He looked over at Josie, and her eyes were as wide as saucers. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"What the fuck else? We run!"

With that, both of them took off. George's heart hammered in his chest, and his feet pounded on the dewy evening grass. He felt a small sliver of pride swell in him as he noticed how much faster he was than Josie. He guessed Currahee was paying off.

They ran and ran, until the cabin and impending trouble was out of sight. George recognized where they were, they were coming on to a deep ditch that lead to a wide field that stretched on for miles, where jumpers practiced. George slowed down his stride, and eventually stopped, where Josie managed to catch up with him, breathing heavily.

"How- are- you…. How are you not dying?" she gasped, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees.

Instead of answering the question, George merely rolled his and continued stepping down the mucky grass.

"Hey!" Josie called, and he could hear her chasing after him. "Wait up, will ya?"

George spun around with haste and glared at her. "Wanna tell me what the fuck that was all about?"

Josie folded her arms in front of her and sighed. "I ship out."

"Yeah, no shit Josie, you think you were going to stay here the whole fucking war?"

For a moment it seemed like Josie was just ignoring his sarcasm but the pause went on a little to long.

"George?"

Her voice was quiet, and soaked with fear; George knew immediately something was wrong, and diverted his attention to her. Her eyes were huge, staring in shock at the ground in front of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly and began to approach her.

"Stop!" she silently screeched, crazily waving her arms in front of her. "Don't move!"

That's it. She was officially crazy. This was insanity.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" he cried.

She lifted a shaky finger in front of her. "There's a fucking crocodile!"

"What?"

George looked around, than froze with fear as he heard a frightening growl from below. He slowly moved his head over and stopped as his eyes made contact with a huge, long, scaly, fanged snout no more than two feet away from him.

Oh fuck.

He was going to die.

Shit.

George held his breath, eyes bulging at the ferocious green beast in front of him.

"What do I do?" he whispered edgily in an almost inaudible voice.

"I don't fucking know!" Josie hissed silently, and George knew mental chaos was about to ensue.

"Josie…" George snarled as quietly as he could. He was about to be munched into lunch meat and she was going to just fucking stand there and watch?

"Um," she whispered, her voice once again starting to tremble. "Try to edge away slowly."

George could have issued a snotty sarcastic remark, but he was too mentally frozen to even think of one.

Not taking his eyes off of the creature, he took one foot and moved it unbearably slowly away.

It all happened in a snap.

The alligator snarled, and snapped his enormous jaws at him, and Josie shrieked at the top of her lungs. By then George was already up the hill and on to the field. He didn't know that he could even run that fast!

"Holy shit!" came Josie's terrified voice from directly behind him, causing George to jump in surprise.

"What the _fuck?_" Josie cried frantically, throwing her arms up in the air. "Since when do fucking crocodiles live here?"

George ran his hands through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. "First of all it's an alligator, dumbass, and second of all they're all over the south! Didn't you take Geography class? Even I know this!"

"You almost got your balls eaten off!"

"Yeah, no shit!"

George placed his hands on his knees; they were still clammy. His heart raced, and he could bet his face was as white as snow. He took a few, slow deep breaths and glanced up at Josie.

She was laughing.

Laughing.

"What the hell? I almost died and you're _laughing_?"

Josie clapped a hand over her mouth and only seemed to laugh harder.

"Stop it!" George cried angrily, "Seriously!"

Tears of hilarity were now springing to Josie's eyes. "What just happened?"

As much as George didn't want to, he could feel laughter coming up inside of him too.

"I don't know," he said, as he could no longer hold back laughter. She doubled over, to the point where she tumbled onto the long and wet grass.

Though under the weird circumstances, and even though he did everyday, it was nice to have a laugh. Especially with her.

"I wonder if alligators like balls?" she spurt out between giggles.

"I swear to God I'm going to recommend you to an insane asylum, Josie..."

"What? That was like, a life changing event we just experienced! Someone should write a book on that shit!"

"And call it what?"

She spread her hands out in front of her in a goofy manner, as if motioning to a sign. "_When Gators Attack... a young man narrowly escapes an alligator attack with his testicles in tact._"

"Yes, and it will sell millions of copies, and I will become a world-renowned celebrity and be more popular than Hitler."

"And your testicles will be even more famous, and they will dedicate a radio show after them..."

George took a seat beside her, as he began to stop laughing. She still had an idiotic grin plastered on her face, as she looked up at the clear Georgian sky.

"So," started George. "What was the whole point of me coming out here?"

The smile on Josie's face started to vanish, and she tilted her head to face George.

"Um," she bit her lip. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

George felt an active feeling of dread erupt inside of him, as if his insides were being torn out. He always knew that this day would come, but had an undying hope that it never would.

He looked at her, how the moonlight bounced off her golden hair and her porcelain white skin, and could feel all hope diminishing.

"Where ya headed?" he asked, after a few moments of bitter silence.

She let out a sigh. "We don't know. I heard a rumor that we're heading down to England to work in a recovery hospital and get some experience, but who knows."

"Shit, eh?"

Josie let out a halfhearted laugh, which ended on a note of letdown.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"What a sappy goodbye," George announced sarcastically. Josie crawled over to him and latched on to his arm.

"It is a goodbye George, want to take it seriously?" she asked dryly, casting a mommyish reprimanding look at him.

He scoffed in reply. "When are you ever serious?"

She crossed her arms. "Pfft, I'm always serious!"

George rolled his eyes. "Okay sloppy Joe, try tellin' that to Joe Toye next time you see him."

Josie pursed her lips and glared at him, and George raised his hands in defense. "I'm joking, sorry!"

They both grinned for moment, then Josie's expression went serious.

"I'm worried about you," she murmured and squeezed his arm like she always did.

"It's okay, I'm pretty much a wizard and Jesus reincarnated, so I really should be fine."

"About the seriousness, George?"

"You don't have to worry about me, alright, I'll be fine."

She sighed, and placed her hands gently on each side of his head, letting her fingers gently caress his forest of brown hair. She leaned in to him, and his eyes connected with hers. Out in the moonlight, hers shone, and were the color of milky peppermint tea his mother used to make. She briskly and frantically leaned in closer, and gently planted her lips on George's forehead. They were dry, yet soft and when they touched him, George swore his heart skipped a beat.

"Please stay safe," she pleaded, removing her lips away.

"Don't worry, I'll make my best effort to get blown up as soon as possible," George chirped, grinning. Instead of the pissed reaction from Josie he expected, she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"So much for a sweet goodbye, ugly."

George rolled himself off the grass and brushed off his boxers in the process, before reaching a hand out and helping Josie.

"Well, adios amigo, see you in five years," he quipped and saluted at her as she stood up.

She stared out in the distance of the field. "Maybe we should take a detour back, just to make sure we don't encounter any alligators."

George laughed. "Good idea Jos, good idea."


	8. Brutish Britain

**Hello! To start off, I'm sorry for the awful awful hiatus this was put on. This was because, well I moved countries! I'm back in Ireland, where I was born. My family had some issues, and it was best resolved by moving back. I'm adjusting fine, I guess you could say, I've really missed the place. I'll probably miss Canada more than anything. Anyway, I've updated so enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>"Jaysus Christ," groaned the green eyed and fiery haired soldier who sat tensely upon a table in front of Josie. Her fingers gingerly put pressure on his forehead. The alcohol-dipped cloth she applied was cold as it nipped her fingers; she could feel a slight burning sensation on the tips of them.<p>

"It's you fookin' yanks, I'm telling yah!" he shouted, half directing it at his mates. "Could yah be a bit mo' gentle lohv?"

Dear God. So this is it is it? War, isn't it lovely?

So far London had been fan-fucking-tastic. Sarcasm intended.

After Georgia, Josie and the rest of her nursing squad had been stuck on a plane and journeyed to somewhere she'd always want to go- the acclaimed and fabulous London England.

At first, she had been nearly ripping at the seams with excitement. London had always seemed so romantic; on the plane she had closed her eyes and pictured herself getting her photograph taken outside of the Buckingham Palace, or maybe looking in shops around Piccadilly Circus. Sending souvenirs back home, bragging to her brothers and sisters how lovely it is. Ah, she never thought her Mum had been right when she told her "things aren't always as they seem, Josie".

So far, she hadn't even seen the outside of her residence and the hospital.

Josie removed the cloth from the ginger boy's forehead, revealing a grotesque two-inch gash. The soldier glared at her, bitterly pressing his lips together. Charming English fellas weren't as she imagined them to be, she guessed.

"I'm going to have to stich it up," she said, reaching under her trolley for the needles and thread.

The soldier leapt up from the table, dusting off his trousers and jamming his hands in his pockets.

"Nah, that's not convenient for me lohv."

Josie rolled her eyes. She was used to this by now, all of her patients seemed to be unwilling to cooperate; if she could even classify them as patients. That was the thing- the W.A.C had sent her squad to England to gain some experience before venturing out to the lines, yet this could barely be called experience. She hadn't even seen a bullet wound yet. Every injury she had treated had come from some easily preventable accident or alcohol fueled mishap, such as this one. This young soldier had been carelessly driving around his army base with his mates, and had to slam on his brakes in order to avoid a motorcycle. In the process his forehead got a very nice smooch from his dashboard.

"Look buddy, I've got to stitch it or next time you raise your eyebrows you won't be able to see because there'll be blood running into your eyes. And that won't be very convenient, now will it?" she chirruped, crossing her arms in front of her.

The redheaded soldier smirked and leaned in to Josie, his face close enough that she backed away, her foot catching the trolley. After an awkward second to regain her balance and many laughs from England's finest soldiers, she could feel the blood running to her cheeks.

"Don't be blinkered about this, lohv. I've got to do my job out there for tha great-uh good of all of us," he said smoothly with a wink.

"Yeah but if I let you go, then I'm not doing my job either, and that affects the greater good of all of us," Josie sneered, biting her lip in blatant distaste for this man.

Another man behind her was cackling hysterically. She turned around to glare at him. He had mousy brown hair, slicked to the side with perfection. His teeth were a bit wonky and he had nostrils larger then the average human being. He had a black eye and his left arm in a sling; a cigarette dangled out of his mouth.

"This one," he said, taking out his cigarette and pointing it towards her. "She's barmy, I like her."

Josie stomped over to him, and with one quick grab, snatched the dart out of his hand. He stared at her, appalled.

"You can't smoke in here!" she snapped. Instead, he grinned.

"You got a boyfriend, little girl?"

At this question, she flinched a little bit. Her first instinct was to tell the truth, with some witty and derogatory comment to catch him off guard. But then, there was always that thought creeping into the back of her head. The thought that honestly and truly, she did have another half, someone who was on the other side of the world or who knows where. Sometimes Josie ever wondered if she could ever find herself a male companion that wasn't George. As soon as she thought it, she always shook that thought away. He was long gone now. They only thing keeping them close now was letters that arrived months apart. The next time they'd ever see each other was god-knows-when. Could be never, could be a few years if they were lucky.

Ugh, this guy on the other hand, what a creep. Is this how men work? They are completely rude and insensitive to you and then ask you out on a date? Seriously?

"I'm married actually," she retorted and went back to go reach for her needle and thread. "To your commanding officer."

He threw his head back with wild chuckles. "Dogs bollocks, love! I don't see no ring on yah," he gestured to her hand.

"We aren't permitted to work with jewelry," she snapped, glaring.

He winked once again, licking his lips. "Well if you change your mind, let me know if you fancy a drink, yeah?"

"Thanks but no thanks. Would you _please_ sit down so I can stitch you up, sir?" she asked, turning to the other solider, who was leaning casually against the table. All she wanted was for this to be over. She just wanted to get out of this place, to actually play her part in this war. That's the reason she enlisted of course- to help people who needed it. Not dealing with unintelligent still in training privates. Whether she was saving a brother, a father or a husband, it didn't matter, just as long as she kept their precious life in tact she was doing her job right.

"Attention!" she heard a bellowing voice come from the back of the warehouse-like room. For once in her life, she was relieved to hear an American accent. The British soldiers immediately jerked out of their beds and stood forward, in a perfect salute.

Her commanding officer, General Rawlkins, stepped into view. "All nurses of the 13th Army Nurse Corps report to the Miles Wing immediately," he glanced about the room. "Carry on."

He strutted out of the room, and Josie had her chance to smirk at the cheeky privates, who had plopped back down into their beds and chairs.

"That would be me, gentlemen," she said, tipping an invisible hat at them. She began to saunter out of the room and turned around smoothly. "You'd better get comfortable, because I'll be back."

She made her way to the Wing that revealed a large, almost warehouse like room filled with chairs that previously weren't there. Josie observed that a large map was stapled to the wall at the front of the room. She strained her neck to see what the map said, but was too far away to recognize the words on it. It appeared to be some sort of a coastline though. Was it North Africa? Italy? She couldn't tell. Noticing her friend Gracie already sitting, she took a seat beside her.

"Have any clue what this is all about?" Josie inquired as she wiggled her bum into wood of the chair, until she was satisfied with comfort.

"Dunno," Gracie said, biting the inside skin of her lip, her blue eyes not bothering to make eye contact with Josie. "I'm thinking it's about D-Day, judging by that map of Normandy over there."

Josie nodded. Her and they other girls had only heard about D-Day briefly, and not from officers of any sort. While treating the brutish brit boys, she could catch tidbits of information that they slipped to one another about the infamous invasion of Nazi seized Europe. All she heard was that they would storm a beach somewhere up on the Coast of France, though she wouldn't have been bothered much considering this may not affect her; however, there was a man it did affect that meant a great deal to her, therefore she perked her ears up like a dog whenever opportunity arose.

Nurses of the 13th Division began to file into the room in clusters, until every seat was occupied. General Rawlkins stepped up where he was visible to everyone, and cleared his throat. The hushed speech in the room immediately dropped down into silence.

"Nurses of the 13th Division of The Army Nurses Corps of America," he began, folding his arms behind his back. "As of last year, our allied commanders have been planning a well-formulated assault on Nazi claimed territory in Europe. Our objective, of course, is to liberate those who have been overruled by this ruthless dictatorship, and eventually have Germany surrender," he paused, drawing in a deep breath and scanning the crowd, seeing if any reaction was evoked from his speech.

"This amphibious assault is scheduled for the sixth of June. Our finest troops from the United Kingdom and our neighbour Canada have been training mercilessly and we have the greatest confidence in them. We will have Marine Infantry storm the beaches of Normandy and Airbourne Divisions drop behind enemy lines."

Josie's stomach dropped at the Airbourne name. That was George. She could already feel pangs of worry building up inside her. _Behind enemy lines._ She never really thought about the danger of it, that thought never penetrated her so deeply that she realized the danger that he was getting into. For a moment, just one moment she hoped with everything she had he would be safe.

"Now, your part in this," the General started once again, "The 13th Division will be aiding in this procedure by creating infirmaries around the county of Normandy. These aid stations will be placed at convenient measures for our troops, yet not in the eye of German realms."

He once again took in a lengthy breath and continued, "On June 6th at Eleven Hundred hours we will transport you on a British supply. You will arrive at this port," he tapped on a small protrusion of land on the map, "Quistreham. By the time you arrive the Caen River should be overtaken by our British and Canadian troops; if the initial invasion succeeds that is."

Josie could feel excitement broiling within her. Finally, she thought. Finally we get out of this place, finally we can actually help; actually do something we worked so hard for.

"More information will be given as the day of Operation Overlord comes closer. Your role in this invasion is vital; with the help of your motivation, intelligence and kind hearts our troops will be lead into success. Women of the 13th, God blesses you. Don't let us down."

With that, the General proceeded to leave the room. That last sentence gave Josie chills. _Don't let us down_. What was that supposed to mean? Was she going to be a shit nurse? They had hardly gained experience to begin with! The only things she had worked on so far were dead pigs and soldiers with black eyes from a drunken rumble!

Horrifying scenes of bloody and blue soldiers began to creep into Josie's mind. What if she couldn't handle it, what if she froze at the sight of them? She pictured them, gasping for their last breath in front of her, while she just stood and watched…

She shook it away. She had to shake it away, she couldn't think like that. She had to be a good nurse, for all those soldiers out there who needed her.

Most of all, she needed to be a good nurse if he ever needed her.


End file.
